


Five Times it Didn't Mean Anything (and One Time it Did)

by GirlWithaPearlEarring



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys Kissing, F/M, Fake-Out Make-Out, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Horcrux Hunting, Horcruxes, Kissing, Kissing as a Distraction, M/M, Undercover as a Couple, cheek kissing, hand kissing, kissing against a wall, why isn't there a tag for that?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24277261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlWithaPearlEarring/pseuds/GirlWithaPearlEarring
Summary: The bulk of this AU follows Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Tom, and Draco as they find and eventually get Tom to reabsorb horcruxes instead of destroying them. This fic focuses on Harry and Tom's relationship and its progression through meaningful (and non-meaningful) kisses.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 36
Kudos: 236





	1. Out of Necessity

It probably hadn’t been the smartest thing in the world to say, but Harry revelled in the stunned suspicion on Tom Riddle’s face with a kind of reckless happiness. If he was going to die here, he might as well enjoy as much of it as he could.

The mixed emotions on Riddle’s face warred for a moment. Harry was certain he felt a questing touch in his mind, small and nothing like what he’d half expected, before Riddle replied dryly, “I’m not a fan of liars, Harry. Especially not outrageous ones.”

The wand in Harry’s face inched higher and he swallowed. Admitting he was a horcrux had always been a gamble, not least because there was no way of knowing how much of Voldemort’s plans as a teenager aligned with his current ones. Did he dare go farther? 

At this point, Dumbledore was either out of the picture or soon to be. The others were too far away to help and ignorant of his current predicament besides. Distantly, he thought he could hear voices and running footsteps below, but there was no telling to whom they belonged. The diary felt heavy where it rested in his robe pocket.

“Ava-” began Riddle dispassionately.

Harry closed his eyes, casting his memory back to the deep, chilling voice of the basilisk, the slide of the boa constrictor’s scales as it swept past him on its way to freedom, then blurted out, “ _Are you sure about that?_ ”

Even listening for it, he wasn’t sure he’d managed Parseltongue until he met Riddle’s astonished eyes, the wand twitching before the tip dipped marginally. 

“ _Impossible,_ ” hissed Riddle.

“Listen,” Harry followed up quickly, pushing his advantage. “I can explain everything once we’re out of here, but if you want to survive and, more importantly, survive Vol-er, _him_ , you need to come with me.”

Riddle narrowed his eyes and brought the wand sharply back up. “Please,” he scoffed, “Don’t forget who you’re-”

There was a sudden burst of noise like a minor explosion in the corridor below them. Several of the spindly metal instruments rattled in their settings and some of the portraits - who Harry suddenly realized had been watching them avidly - cried out. Riddle’s attention darted away and Harry used the distraction to his advantage, hoping against hope his friends were okay.

Riddle grunted when he hit the floor then again when Harry slammed on top of him. A short scuffle ensued for dominance over Harry’s wand, during which Harry could hear the portraits urging him on and several shouts and incantations coming from downstairs. Just as he’d managed to use his right hand to scrabble at Riddle’s closed fingers, his left holding down the wrist and his shoulder pinning him by the throat, Riddle’s entire body bucked at the same time that he flung the wand into a far corner of the room.

Harry tried to use the momentum of the sudden roll he was forced into to disengage from the other boy, but Riddle managed to pin him after a few rough moments. Opening his mouth to attempt another distraction, he was wholly unprepared for Riddle to interrupt him with his own mouth.

For a moment, the unexpected action caused Harry to freeze up completely. Then he was struggling with a fear he hadn’t known before, twisting his wrists in Riddle’s grasp and scrambling around to try to bring up his knees. He breathed frantically through his nose, wondering what the hell had come over the other boy.

It was one of the oddest kisses he’d ever had, if you could call it that. Riddle wasn’t moving his mouth much at all, just keeping Harry’s open as much as possible and - was he trying to suffocate him? It was like he was trying to get all of the air in Harry’s lungs out through his mouth, like the world’s most intimate vacuum.

Finally, with a terrific effort, Harry managed to wrench his mouth away, sucking in great gulps of air. “What?” he spluttered, confused and terrified.

Riddle didn’t try again, merely held Harry down for a moment before he glanced back at the door, listening to the footsteps now thundering up the stairs.

Distantly, Harry took in his expression of extreme frustration, his lip curling minutely, before he rolled completely off of Harry in the direction of the flung wand. Despite his shock, Harry scrambled up, determined to get to the wand first. 

Before he’d even taken a step, however, the door burst open behind him and Harry whirled at the sound of Ron’s shout. “Harry, catch!” Without thinking, Harry plucked the Gryffindor tie out of the air then looked up in confusion, Riddle briefly forgotten.

“It’s a Portkey! You’ve got five seconds!” shouted Ginny as she slammed the door behind Hermione and Malfoy. Without a second thought, Harry whirled and ran straight at Riddle, who had just managed to pluck the wand from the floor.

Harry’s momentum was such that he was able to momentarily pin Riddle between himself and a bookcase, Riddle’s wand hand splayed wide on the shelf. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ron picking something up off the desk and heard Hermione casting a spell at the closed door.

“Get over here!” Harry yelled at the others, flinging the end of the tie toward them as best he could. Riddle squirmed and managed to get the wand pointed directly at Harry’s head before he felt the familiar tug in his naval that meant the Portkey had worked.

Hoping the others had managed to grab on, Harry sped onward in a whirl of color and sound, his shoulders banging against Tom Riddle’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Dumbledore still found the ring horcrux and became cursed (hence why he’ll be out of the picture soon, unfortunately) but he didn’t destroy it.
> 
> \- The idea that mouths are gateways to the soul isn’t as widespread as I thought. These are references I could find:  
> * In the Midrash this is how the angel of death takes souls  
> * In traditional Japanese mythology, the Yuki-onna freezes victims then sucks out the souls through their mouths  
> * In some offshoots of the lamia myth, she seduces young heroes and either drinks their blood or sucks their soul, both through the mouth  
> * And, of course, the Dementor’s Kiss from Harry Potter
> 
> \- I would think Tom was hoping he could pull a Dementor’s Kiss since both himself and part of Harry are horcruxes. It was a little spur of the moment, but Tom does that sometimes when he panics about not having had time to plan everything out in advance.


	2. As a Distraction

Six months passed in a blur, running, fortifying, and plotting, all while trying to convince Tom Riddle of some basic human tenets he’d chosen to forgo. By the time they managed to get any sort of breakthrough, Harry was exhausted, physically and mentally. He supposed allowing Tom Riddle access to his mind in lieu of a Pensieve wasn’t the most intelligent choice, but trust begot trust after all, plus Harry had never been so good at Occlumency in his life.

It was still kind of surreal waking up to a breakfast cooked by his mortal enemy, though Harry was mostly thrown by how good it always was. Riddle’s long-winded explanation on how cooking and potioneering were one in the same so _of course_ he was phenomenal at _both_ was really just the cherry on top.

Having Draco Malfoy around - being mostly helpful, even - was almost secondary at this point. It also turned out that having two Slytherins in the group, one of whom was an almost legendary planner, helped the majority of their plans go off without a hitch.

Of course, there were always unforeseen circumstances, Harry reminded himself as he and Riddle raced down the side streets of Hogsmeade, aiming for the edge of town. How were they to know that Voldemort had just pushed through an edict making it impossible to Apparate in and out of Wizarding towns without alerting the Death Eaters?

They’d barely managed to make it to the correct street before they’d been sighted and forced to split, Ron and Ginny slipping into the Hog’s Head side door while Harry had grabbed Riddle and fled in the opposite direction, attracting the attention of what seemed all of the Death Eaters and Snatchers on duty. Harry only hoped the information they got from Aberforth was worth the risk, something he’d been arguing for going on weeks now.

Their remaining pursuers were far enough away now that Harry chanced darting down a smaller side alley, hoping to cut through faster. He heard Riddle hiss his name and an aborted curse before he heard his hurried footsteps catching up close behind him.

The alley was longer than Harry had first imagined with several branching dead ends. Right before they came to the other end, there was the faint sound of several pops followed by whispered voices around the corner, obviously trying to be stealthy. Harry skidded to a halt, Riddle almost colliding with him, breathing hard.

Glancing around wildly, Harry considered their options, noticing Riddle doing much the same out in his peripheral vision. Apparition was out of the question and Harry didn’t know any invisibility spells, nor would that help to disguise their footprints in the snow. There was a short dead end a little behind them and to the right, but unless Riddle knew any spells to phase through walls… Harry paused, an insane and reckless idea blooming in his head, inspired by a joke brought about by long nights and too much coffee, Ginny’s laughing face swimming through his mind.

Riddle must have caught on that he had an idea because when Harry physically dragged him to the side alley, he put up very little resistance, though he was frowning suspiciously. Harry, half in disbelief at his own actions, pushed Riddle against the wall halfway down the dead end, their breath fogging the air between them and footsteps crunching through the snow close by.

Riddle was still frowning, trying to sort out the mess of thoughts in Harry’s head most likely, when Harry whispered, “Just follow my lead, okay?”, stepped in close, and kissed him.

Harry felt Riddle freeze up and tilted his head, trying for some kind of response. Half of his head was screaming at him, convinced of his insanity, while the other half was quietly and surreally taking in the feel of Riddle’s lips beneath his, the give of his face against his bare hands, the warmth of his body, and the entirely too close sound of voices and hurrying footsteps.

Just as Harry was about to pull away and suggest they forget this ever happened, how about fighting their way out instead?, Riddle came to life. He drew Harry closer with an arm wrapped securely around his waist and with his other hand quickly transferred his winter cap to Harry’s head before spreading it over the side of Harry’s face, obscuring him from the alley entrance. The wool of his glove was scratchy on his cheek, Harry noted distantly, while the rest of him seemed torn between melting into Riddle’s warmth and screaming in horror.

Suddenly Harry was aware of individual voices entirely too close, raised in frustration, though it didn’t sound like they were coming any closer to their spot. He distinctly heard a catcall in their direction followed by several derogatory comments, but Riddle chose that moment to pull Harry even closer, their legs tangling, and did something with his teeth and Harry’s lower lip that caused Harry to miss the exact words. He might have made some kind of noise, involuntary and pathetic, because Riddle hummed deep in this throat and did it again.

Harry could feel himself blushing, his face much hotter than usual, and a wave of reckless disregard rose in him before he flashed a hand sign toward the Snatchers that would’ve made Mrs. Weasley tut and Sirius snicker. The catcaller laughed uproariously, the others adding several more comments before the voices slowly dwindled away.

Harry made to pull away but Riddle kept him close, the hands on his waist and face tightening. Their breath misted between them and, to Harry’s embarrassment, fogged his glasses slightly. He could still tell Riddle was enjoying the moment far more than he ought, a smirk playing about his lips and his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Why, Harry,” he murmured, edging forward just enough that their lips brushed as he spoke. “If I knew that was how you felt…”

Harry pushed at Riddle’s chest, his ears burning under Riddle’s hat, though he couldn’t get a lot of leverage with their current position. “Knock it off. It worked, didn’t it?”

“Surprisingly enough,” Riddle conceded, dropping the playful tone. “I suppose that came from _Ginny’s_ suggestion?” The emphasis on Ginny’s name didn’t escape Harry nor the flash of her laughing face through his mind, an echo of his earlier inspiration, though he still couldn’t fathom why Riddle disliked her in particular.

“We need to get back,” Harry replied, ignoring the question but pulling Riddle’s hand away from his face, while trying and failing to do the same to the one around his waist. “Riddle, c’mon-”

Riddle hushed him, suddenly alert and listening. Harry tensed, but couldn’t hear or see anything nearby. “What?”

Riddle pulled Harry close again, succeeding in getting their lips connected long enough for their legs to briefly tangle and Harry to make a surprised noise before he wrenched himself away.

“You don’t have to-” he started, then stopped at the look on Riddle’s face.

“What?” he asked, the picture of innocent charm. “It sounded like they were coming back.”

Snarling, Harry twisted away and stalked back to the alleyway entrance, Riddle’s genuine amusement a sharp echo in his mind.

Hours later, having reconvened at their current headquarters, exhausted and dripping snow onto the porch, it took Malfoy’s snide question before Harry realized he was still wearing Riddle’s hat. He made a mental note to research how to control physical reactions from his Occlumency books as he felt his cheeks heat up yet again. The note became a conviction when he caught Hermione’s shrewd look and Ginny’s raised eyebrow before flinging the hat at Riddle, who caught it, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Oh hi there, absolutely favorite kissing tropes ever! It’s been a while!
> 
> \- At this point in the series, Riddle is not fully convinced about absorbing the horcruxes, somewhat due to actually being able to feel regret and mostly due to the painful and irreversible process. (I would imagine creating a horcrux then fixing the soul would mean it would be almost impossible to make the horcrux again.)
> 
> \- About names: Harry seems to call him Riddle or Voldemort for the majority of the book series, not referring to him as Tom until the very end when he’s trying to convince him to feel remorse, but Voldemort and Riddle always call him Harry or Harry Potter. So in this series, I think Riddle would call him Harry consistently, but Harry would build up to calling him Tom. Don’t worry, we’ll get there eventually!
> 
> \- Things I asked my friend while writing this chapter:  
>  *Have you ever had your glasses fog up while kissing someone?  
>  *Do you think Tom Riddle would be a good cook?  
>  *Does Voldemort/Tom Riddle ever call Harry by his last name?


	3. Playing It Up

By the time they’d managed to not only successfully perform the ritual spell Dumbledore invented on the Gaunt ring but also convince Riddle to continue absorbing the horcruxes after he spent three successive days in bed, feverish and mostly communicating in Parseltongue, Harry had gone from always keeping him within line of sight to actively relying on him in a firefight. It’s when he catches himself calling the other boy ‘Tom’ more often than not that he begins to truly realize though.

He trusts him. Somehow, Harry has come to trust Tom Riddle. 

The incident with the Inferi and the horrible green potion had certainly helped build that trust, though Harry knew the others were still very much on the fence. Kreacher’s account of his experience with the potion probably hadn’t helped nor Tom’s lack of reaction to the tale. Hermione was still fuming over that one.

Sure, Tom was a narcissistic arshole even on his best days, but Harry could no longer classify him as heartless. He saw it everyday, no matter how Tom liked to sneer at him. The attention to detail he took when preparing meals, keeping everyone’s preferences straight without having to ask. The fact that he’d taken to waking Hermione and escorting her to her room when she inevitably fell asleep while researching. Even the dueling sessions he’d begun subjecting them all to in the hopes they’d be able to prepare for quicker, more knowledgeable opponents. 

“Being observant is part of success, Harry.” 

“She was beginning to snore and Merlin knows she would’ve just fallen asleep on the floor otherwise.” 

“Quite frankly it’s rather tiresome to be around you all day without hexing you at least once.”

Honestly, Harry felt that Tom’s directness and disregard for being pleasant was far superior to his false charm. It was also his main argument for Tom’s lack of duplicity when confronted by the others.

“That really doesn’t make it any better, Harry,” said Ginny. She was staring him down with one eyebrow raised and a smudge high on her cheek from where she’d fallen while mock-dueling Malfoy earlier.

“Do you have a better idea?” asked Ron skeptically from his seat at the long kitchen table. He was examining the detailed schematics Hermione and Tom had drawn up of the Ministry holiday venue, looking increasingly impressed. Malfoy was lounging nearby, twirling his wand idly, but Harry had a feeling he was paying more attention than he let on. “Because this looks pretty air-tight to me, Gin.”

Ginny frowned and pursed her lips, but said nothing. Their reconnaissance trips had all come up with two debilitating facts: Dolores Umbridge was now in possession of Slytherin’s locket and she never seemed to take it off. Short of cornering her in her own home, a building that Ron had likened to Azkaban in terms of accessibility and charm, they had run into dead ends with every other option. Harry had been in favor of infiltrating the Ministry for a while, but was eventually talked down by Malfoy’s derisive descriptions of how many ways they could be discovered or trapped.

“The only thing I don’t like,” Ron continued, pausing to glare up at Malfoy. “Is that I’m stuck back here while this git gets to be your partner.”

“Ron,” Ginny sighed. She turned to her brother and Harry took the opportunity to slink toward the door. “You know it makes the most sense. Malfoy’s the only one familiar with the place and I’m one of the best duelists here in case things go sour.”

Ron’s huffy response trailed away as Harry succeeded in getting out of the kitchen, though not without spotting a knowing look from Malfoy. Harry shook it off. So what if he was going to see Tom? They had a lot to plan and practice if this was going to work, after all.

\---

As it turned out, it took almost all the time they had left to feel they had a running shot at success. Hermione had managed (with some advice from Tom, as he was quick to point out) to create a modified version of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears that reminded Harry strongly of Muggle earpieces.

“That would be the majority of the inspiration, yes,” said Hermione patiently. She stoically ignored Tom’s scowl. “Although we’ll need to stick them in your ears with magic. I haven’t found a way to make the material less slippery.”

Harry and Ron had managed, after a few close calls, to get several hairs from a Muggle woman and Albert Runcorn, a direct employee of Umbridge, whose job seemed mostly to be reporting illegal Muggleborn activity.

“That’s all well and good,” said Malfoy. He seemed to be taking some pleasure in treating Harry and Ron like idiotic first years. “But what are you going to say when the real Runcorn shows up, Potter?”

Tom cleared his throat from the corner. He un-steepled his fingers and looked directly at Ginny, smiling nastily. “You feel like doing some cleanup, Ginevra?”

She raised both eyebrows, but otherwise didn’t so much as twitch at the disturbing expression. “If only to keep you from doing more damage than you should.”

“If you think for even a second-” Ron started, his ears already turning red, but was interrupted.

“Why, Weasley,” Tom drawled, glancing at Ron as if surveying an unruly student. “This man has betrayed the very tenets you hold so dear. Would you rather he continue his immoral actions?”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Harry muttered.

Tom flashed him a quick grin while Ron retorted loudly, “I’d rather my sister didn’t become an accessory to murder, thank you very-”

“Ron, relax,” Ginny replied, rolling her eyes. “We’re not murdering anyone, just incapacitating. I’ve gotten pretty good at Memory Charms, right?” She winked at Hermione, who waved an absentminded hand without looking up from  _ Eleven Enchanting Espionage Exploits: The Underground Wizarding World. _

\---

So with approximately two hours to fully practice coordinating their movements and impersonating their chosen subjects, Harry found himself at the edge of a large crowd within the main ballroom of the Parkinson manor. He adjusted his stance to appear a little less like he was bracing on the deck of a ship and wrapped his gloved hand around Tom’s extended arm.

“Would you please relax?” Tom gritted out. Harry saw the minute twitch of his mouth as he made to smile at a passing witch then remembered he didn’t need to. Harry supposed that was one nice thing about Tom impersonating Runcorn: there was no need for false charm.

Harry didn’t bother responding with words, but focused on projecting how awkward he still felt adjusting to a different center of gravity on top of wearing heels. He resisted the urge to check that the modified Extendable Ears were still in place for the eighth time.

“I still don’t understand why I had to be a woman,” Harry lied. He knew they were trying to stay under the radar as much as possible and a heterosexual relationship would raise much less attention in this group of very traditional thinkers.

“Don’t worry so much, darling,” Tom murmured sweetly near his ear, loud enough for a nearby wizard to give them an encouraging smile. He brushed the backs of his fingers down Harry’s cheek. “You’ll do just fine.”

Harry focused on not flinching and kept his smile in place through sheer force of will while trying to kill Tom with his eyes. Tom’s own were dancing with their typical dark mischief though the rest of his face appeared relaxed and congenial. 

“Thank you, dear,” Harry forced out.

“If you two are finished with the preliminary flirting,” drawled Malfoy from what seemed directly into his ear. “Umbridge is still chatting with Thicknesse. You might have to draw her away if you want to get this done before midnight.” Harry thought he heard Ginny stifle a giggle.

Harry bent his head down under the pretence of smoothing his dress robes. “Glad you two are having fun.”

“Get to it, Potter,” Ginny murmured meaningfully. Harry sighed and allowed Tom to sweep them closer to the buffet table and Umbridge.

\---

It was going on close to an hour and Harry was already about to walk straight out the gilded front doors after flinging his heels at Umbridge or, better yet, stabbing them into Tom’s face.

Logically, Harry knew exactly what he’d been getting into. He also knew that it made the most sense for Tom and himself to be the ones speaking to Umbridge. Tom was almost legendary at reading people and manipulating them accordingly while Harry had to expend very little of his mental energy to do exactly what Tom needed from him thanks to their connection.

What he didn’t exactly anticipate - and really rather should have, he reflected ruefully - was how much Tom would take advantage of the situation. Harry wasn’t in any position to give him a piece of his mind nor did he want to sabotage their mission just because he was getting uncomfortable.

Not that Tom had tried anything overt, but it was becoming a little overwhelming. He always seemed to be touching Harry, even when it wasn’t completely necessary: a hand on his back, a touch to his shoulder, neck, or cheek, or a light brush across his hand or wrist. Each touch made him almost hyper aware of Tom’s presence and how much space separated them and there were several moments when he knew he shivered inadvertently, which probably only encouraged the idiot. Umbridge didn’t seem to notice or care but Harry had caught the charmed glances of several others, which made Harry increasingly self-conscious.

When Harry finally managed to slip Umbridge the laxative while she was deep in conversation with Tom - Harry had been trying his best not to listen too carefully lest he accidentally scowl at her - he felt enormous relief. Hopefully they only had another hour before they could quietly beg off and rejoin the others. No sense in leaving too early and casting suspicion.

“Oh, yes,” Tom was saying, laughing quietly. He glanced at Harry, eyes lit. Harry regarded him warily through a fake smile. “That’s precisely where I met my Dahlia. Isn’t that right, love?”

“How could I forget?” Harry replied, glancing at Umbridge. She seemed a little uncomfortable. Harry hoped it was the potion kicking in.

“Why,” Tom murmured, his eyes heavy with a meaning Harry didn’t entirely believe. “I’m not sure what I would do without her.” He encircled Harry’s waist to lightly tangle the fingers of their left hands then brushed his lips high on Harry’s cheek, pausing there a moment. Harry vaguely saw Umbridge smile unconvincingly before tensing minutely and all but dashing for the bathroom without bothering to excuse herself.

“Coming your way,” Tom muttered. It took Harry a moment before he realized he was talking to Ginny and Malfoy.

“Got it in hand,” came Malfoy’s reply, sounding distracted. “Stay in contact. We’ll rendezvous at quarter past if all goes well.”

Harry made to reply, but was interrupted by a voice exclaiming, “Why, Albert! I never knew you were seeing someone!”

With the main point of the evening out of the way, Harry smiled at the approaching witch and firmly removed Tom’s hands before introducing himself. Later in the conversation, when Tom made to move back to his previous position, Harry took special pleasure in thinking as loudly and viciously as possible what he could do with those hands. Tom’s eyes twitched minutely and he transferred his hands to his pockets as smoothly as if he meant to from the beginning.

Harry smiled grimly and indulged in a fantasy of laughing maniacally while fleeing the scene as the rest of the Ministry converged on Tom’s prone body. Tom’s flat stare only made it more enjoyable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Obviously a fair amount of horcrux hunting and team bonding has taken place between Chapters 2 and 3, hence the setup. Dumbledore is dead by this point, but did pass Harry and Co. the diary, ring, and ritual spell mentioned. Best not to ask details on that: wishy-washy soul-wouly magic.
> 
> \- During this chapter, they are staying at Grimmauld Place but they’re planning to vacate right after this mission to be safe.  
> If the gang learned one thing from the ambush at Hogsmeade, it’s “pay attention to the news”. They habitually swipe Wizarding newspapers and tune into the Wizard’s Wireless to stay up to date. Lying to Hermione about leaving money for each paper is child’s play to Tom and Harry doesn’t think it’s an important enough issue to bring up.
> 
> \- Finally, if writing this has taught me anything, it’s that Tom Riddle and Hermione Granger are so much smarter than me. I’m sure I’ve left a plot hole or two hanging around the setup here, but I’ve done the best I can!


	4. For Entertainment

He was standing on the front step of Number Four Privet Drive. It was dark out, but Harry could see no streetlights, only the lights from the windows to either side of him. They reflected nothing beyond five feet and Harry could see nothing beyond that. He had the unnerving impression of being watched. A shiver ran down his back.

“Harry!” Hermione called from inside the house. “Come in, dinner’s ready!”

Harry opened the door but instead of the Dursleys’ tidy hallway, it opened onto the main room of the ramshackle farmhouse they’d made their home base. The dandelions no one claimed to have picked stood in their plastic cup by the window. Harry delicately touched a petal.

“C’mon, mate!” Ron shouted from nearby. Harry could smell something, but wasn’t sure what it was.

He blinked and faded into his chair at the table, Ron on his left and Hermione across. Ginny was in the kitchen; he could hear her voice but not what she was saying. It sounded like she was bickering with Malfoy again. The chair to his right was empty but pulled out as if someone had just vacated it. Harry absentmindedly brushed the seat with his fingers, but it felt cold. He shivered again.

“Where’s Tom?” he asked.

It was only when it became quiet that Harry realized Hermione and Ron had been having a quiet conversation and there had been ambient noise of hot food sizzling on the plates, the old fan running above the stove, the muted sound of crickets from outside the windows.

In the quiet, Harry’s ears felt detached from his head yet the lack of sound pressed on his eardrums as if to drive them into his skull.

“What?” he asked, looking up at Hermione, but she wasn’t there.

He shivered again and realized he was in the main hall, standing outside Tom’s bedroom. There was a faint light flickering from underneath the door.

“Tom?” Harry asked, but realized his mouth hadn’t moved. He licked his lips and heard an answer in Tom’s voice, though it sounded distant and odd.

Harry pushed open the door and the light from the fire blinded him. As he rubbed his eyes, he heard a quiet rustling by his feet and the sound of soft hissing. He paused, his hands over his eyes, but couldn’t understand the words. Wasn’t it a snake? Why couldn’t he…?

Suddenly Harry jumped, looking down to see Nagini coiled around his leg but though the hissing continued, her mouth wasn’t open. Harry tried to move away, but he stumbled and fell against the bed that he was now standing near. One of his hands landed on a lump under the bed covers: a leg. 

“Tom?” Harry asked again. His head felt heavy, his scar prickling. He fell onto his elbows and realized Nagini had disappeared. “What…?”

The voice was still hissing. Harry looked up and realized the sound was coming from Tom, his eyes closed tightly and his body twitching as he slept.

Had he had a relapse? He needed to wake him up, he needed to get the others, maybe Hermione would know…

Tom’s eyes flew open and Harry woke with a start.

\---

Harry lay on his back, breathing hard, scar still prickling vaguely. He pressed a hand over it and focused on clearing his mind, slowing his breathing. It took some time, Tom’s eyes from the dream searing into his memory. They had been red, blank and unseeing, as if from a corpse. But something more seemed buried under the glassiness, as if from a great distance, like an uncannily lifelike puppet. Gradually, as he focused on willing the memory away, the pain in his head lessened and stopped.

It had been several months since he’d had a bad dream and even longer since he’d woken to his scar hurting. He wondered if Tom had felt it too. If, even now, Voldemort was furiously pacing some room, his red eyes darting from side to side.

Harry quickly got up and pulled on some socks and a jumper, ignoring the way his shoulders were shuddering every now and then. They were currently squatting in a seaside cottage that was obviously meant to be occupied during the summer months and not the middle of winter, if the insulation was anything to go by. It was safe enough, as it was obvious the owners weren’t planning on vacationing any time soon.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen with the vague idea of getting some hot chocolate or tea. He half expected Tom to be waiting for him, but the room was dark and silent. As he waited for the water to boil, he thought he heard a quiet scratching coming from the sitting room. A few seconds later, he heard it again, followed by a low sigh.

Harry glanced at the clock and wondered again if Tom’s sleep had been similarly disturbed. Although he slept less than any of them, it was rare for him to be awake this late.

A few minutes later, Harry grabbed his mug and looked in, finding Tom hunched over making meticulous notes in the new journal they’d gotten him for his birthday. Several large, dull-looking tomes lay open on the table, though Harry thought he spotted a colorful illustration of a dragon in one mostly buried book.

“Can I help you?” Tom asked without looking up or pausing in his note-taking.

Harry wanted to ask if he’d experienced the dream too or maybe say something in Parseltongue, try for a reaction. Instead, he sipped his drink and asked quietly, “What are you working on?”

Tom glanced at him without moving his head, his dark eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “Rune stones,” he muttered vaguely.

Harry moved a little closer and looked at the topmost book, but didn’t understand the majority of it. “Didn’t you take Ancient Runes?” he asked.

Tom scoffed lightly. “Of course,” he answered testily. He finished the page of notes and began drawing a diagram on the next. “Though I’m beginning to question the validity of the Hogwarts curriculum more every day.”

Harry snorted, remembering some of his more ridiculous lessons. “At least you didn’t have Lockhart.” He looked more closely at the diagram Tom was drawing. “That series,” he said, pointing. “I’ve seen it before. Around the lip of that green potion, right? In the cave?”

Tom had stopped drawing, his pencil poised near Harry’s outstretched finger. “Or Umbridge,” he murmured. There was a sharp note in his voice and his eyes were fixed.

“Huh?” Harry asked, thrown by the non sequitur.

“At least I didn’t have Umbridge,” Tom answered bitterly. Harry realized he was staring at the back of Harry’s hand, where the jagged words of his scar were poking out from his jumper.

Harry went to move his hand away, feeling odd, when Tom covered it with his own. Harry twitched before he could stop it. He thought he felt a brief burst of warmth from Tom, an emotion he couldn’t identify.

“This series begins a complex protection ring that I’ve come across several times,” Tom explained, moving Harry’s finger to outline the first section of the diagram. “It’s likely we’ll encounter varieties of it when navigating the tunnels.”

He was using the tone of voice that he employed when instructing them on their wand technique, highbrow and slightly exasperated, but Harry felt sure he was enjoying Harry’s discomfort.

“Great,” Harry muttered. He tried to pull his hand away but realized he was at a disadvantage, off balance and holding a mug of cocoa. If it came to it, Harry supposed he could always dump the drink on Tom’s head, though that was almost certainly not going to be worth the fallout. “I don’t suppose any of that will help us get past any dragons?”

“No, Harry,” Tom’s voice dipped into more exasperated than highbrow. Harry felt that strange burst of emotion again then Tom squeezed his hand and turned to look him in the eye, grinning. “That’s where you come in.”

An image of Harry flying on his broom pursued by a Hungarian Horntail presented itself in his head and Harry made a mental note to ask Hermione why she felt like sharing his whole life story with Tom Riddle. It was just the distraction Tom needed to push the jumper back and brush his lips to the back of Harry’s hand, keeping eye contact and smirking the whole time.

Harry jolted back, sloshing cocoa on the carpet and hissing as it burnt his hand. “What is your-?” he started to ask then gave up as Tom began laughing.

“Git,” Harry muttered, mopping up the cocoa as best he could and retreating to the kitchen, ears burning and dream utterly forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Yeah, they’re planning the breakin to Gringotts. No, that’s not happening soon; there’s no way Tom (or Malfoy, for that matter) would risk capture with anything less than a rock solid plan and at least ten escape routes.
> 
> \- My head canon is that Hermione would take the longest to get used to Tom, but also end up forming the second strongest relationship with him (Harry being first) because he’s also a huge nerd.
> 
> \- Between chapters 3 and 4, they did manage to get the locket horcrux and Tom absorbed it with similar results, though he was only laid up for a little over a day this time.


	5. Showing Your Hand

It was an idea that had been growing in Harry’s mind for some time, taking up more space and developing into a plan by the time the first flowers were starting to bloom. Tom and Malfoy were still caught up in gathering as much information as possible on Gringotts, talking themselves into corners and getting into frustrated arguments with Hermione. Ron was getting more and more sullen as time wore on with no progress and Ginny only seemed happy when she was egging them on.

It was in the middle of just such an argument when Harry, who had been sitting in the bay window quietly, staring at the sea, abruptly had enough.

“We need to put it aside,” he said firmly, loud enough that they stopped talking and looked to him. He could see their disbelieving faces reflected in the glass. Right when Malfoy opened his mouth, confused sneer already forming, Harry swiveled and stood.

“Harry-” began Hermione, but Harry interrupted her.

“We’ll never be able to do it perfectly, but that’s not the point.” Malfoy scoffed and turned away, though Tom did nothing but continue to look neutrally at him. Hermione had her hand half-raised but seemed momentarily stymied. 

“Hashing it out over and over every day won’t fix anything,” he continued. “And what happens if the plan fails and we get discovered? What if we’re being hunted and can’t move as freely? There are other horcruxes out there, other clues. We can try a different place, maybe a different-”

“We’ve  _ tried _ other places, Potter,” said Malfoy in exasperation, throwing his hands up and turning round. “We’ve thought for days and months and come up with absolute-”

“You have something in mind,” said Tom quietly, cutting him off. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” replied Harry, a little tentatively. Now it came to it, he wasn’t sure this  _ was _ the best idea, but Malfoy was right. They’d been through all the other options.

“At this point,” Ginny piped up from her position on the sofa, “I don’t care if it’s the Death Eater Headquarters. I’m in.” Ron said nothing, but he did look up from the paper he’d been re-reading, expression hopeful.

Harry took a breath and said in a rush, “I think we need to go to Godric’s Hollow.”

Malfoy looked even more exasperated but Hermione exchanged a look with Tom before murmuring, “I’ve been thinking much the same. But, Harry, I’m still not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Godric’s Hollow?” repeated Ron skeptically. Harry took it as a good sign that he was talking.

“It’s just a feeling I’ve been having,” he continued. 

Hermione looked at him sharply. “Like a dream?”

“No, I-” Harry stopped then realized what she was driving at. “You think this is something Voldemort planted in my head.”

This hadn’t occurred to Harry before. Godric’s Hollow made an intuitive sort of sense to him, but he could admit he was mostly drawn because of his parents and the house. The place where he’d received his scar. Where it had all begun.

“It would be an ideal location for a trap,” Tom said blithely. Harry couldn’t be sure, but even with the blaise demeanor it seemed to him that Tom was paying a great deal of attention to his reaction. “A place which holds great sentimental value, to which it’s likely you’ve never been.”

“Straight from the serpent’s tongue,” said Ginny cynically. Despite his conflicting thoughts, Harry couldn’t hold back a small smile and Ron laughed outright.

“Look,” Harry said, making a placating gesture at Tom, who was now glaring at Ginny. “I just think it’s worth a try.”

\---

In the end, it took weeks for Harry to bring them around, filled with multiple attempts to pinpoint Voldemort’s influence by means of Legilimency and reminders of his first idea - to visit Hogsmeade - ending in near disaster. It took Ron and, reluctantly, Ginny finally admitting that his hunches usually ended up being fairly good that won Hermione over, protesting the whole way. Malfoy was still of the opinion that Harry was off his rocker, but a well-placed threat from Ginny at least got him to agree to man the cottage with her while the rest of them were in the field. Tom...was another story.

Although Harry had been privy to his mental landscape far more in the past few weeks, he was no closer to telling how Tom felt about the idea. It was becoming increasingly difficult to speak with him as he was often vague or completely silent when Harry attempted. On occasion, he was simply nowhere to be found, turning up hours later with vague excuses then disappearing into his room. He hadn’t shared this tendency with the others yet as he could just imagine their suspicious reactions and wasn’t ready to admit how much he trusted Tom.

So it was to Harry’s great surprise that, upon entering his bedroom to turn in one night, he found Tom standing at the window, apparently waiting for him. He had turned and leaned against the wall when Harry stepped into the room.

Harry debated the merits of keeping the door open for what was sure to be a revealing conversation, eyeing Tom’s stance and expression. The moment seemed to stretch between them, the air heavy and thick with something Harry couldn’t identify. 

“It’s alright, Harry,” said Tom mockingly, though he didn’t smile. “I’m not planning to abscond with you to the Alps.”

“Ha ha,” Harry muttered. He closed the door. “What do you want then?”

“Granger wants us to get more Muggle hairs tomorrow,” Tom began. “Seems she’s going along with the plan after all.”

“Right,” Harry returned, confused. Why did Tom have to wait in the dark to tell him that? “I suppose you are too then?” he asked.

Tom didn’t reply. Harry could just make out part of his face from the moonlight filtering through the window. He might’ve been a statue.

“Okay,” Harry said, beginning to feel uncomfortable, “Well, if that’s all,” but Tom chose that moment to step away from the wall, his hands loosely curled.

“You know it’s going to be a trap,” he said abruptly. His voice was tight with what Harry thought might’ve been anger. Harry looked closely at his face, but it was more in shadow than before and he couldn’t read him at all.

“Probably,” Harry agreed.

Tom twitched, his face briefly spasming and his hands jerking into fists. He made a frustrated noise, took a half step forward, then abruptly stepped backwards and sank onto the foot of Harry’s bed.

Harry watched him, still tense and expectant. When he did nothing but lean forward, elbows propped on his legs and hands dangling, Harry released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and stepped closer. “That doesn’t mean we can’t escape, though,” he said. “We’ve done it before.”

Tom released a huff of breath and smirked up at him. Harry knew he was remembering the alleyway in Hogsmeade and felt his face heat before he could stop it, anticipating an embarrassing mix of sensations and half-remembered emotions through their connection, but Tom didn’t seem interested in making him squirm. His expression cleared before he replied, “I wouldn’t exactly call that a trap, just poor planning on our part.”

“Look, even if it is,” Harry stepped forward again, determined to move past his discomfort and get to the point. Tom seemed finally willing to talk - or at least to listen - so he was going to take advantage. “We need to go anyway. There’s only so much you can do from the shadows.”

Tom’s face contorted slightly. He looked torn between derision and amused disbelief. He opened his mouth then shook his head in apparent resignation.

“I know,” Harry continued. And he did. He knew how likely he was to get this point across to Tom, but this was important, beyond what they were doing tomorrow, beyond Godric’s Hollow or even the entire plan leading up to Voldemort’s demise and Tom’s completed soul. “But there’s times when you have to step forward and show your hand.”

Tom said nothing, but his mouth closed and his face went through a curious transition of emotions. There was a sudden rush of warmth and it took Harry a moment to link it to the same strange emotion he’d felt from Tom weeks ago, when he’d kissed his hand to...what? Mix Harry about? Amuse himself?

Before he could reflect further, Tom was suddenly much closer.

“What?” Harry asked, but the sound was mostly lost when Tom framed his face with his hands and leaned down. Tom’s lips were cool and soft. Harry let him brush them against his own a few times, lost in the unexpected moment.

He blinked then realized he had been closing his eyes. His hands were on Tom’s wrists, twitching slightly. Tom was watching him closely from a few inches away, his eyes dark and with no trace of mischief. Harry felt suddenly cold and frightened.

“What the hell, Tom?” he hissed, shoving himself back. His lips felt odd. He wanted to touch them, but knew Tom would do something, say something, and that was more than he could handle at the moment.

Tom didn’t react beyond lowering his hands. His eyes were boring into Harry’s and for the first time in a long time, Harry looked away.

He heard Tom exhale then step smoothly past him toward the door. “Just testing the theory,” he explained nonchalantly, “Might need a little fine-tuning before we apply it.”

Harry whirled just fast enough to catch a glimpse of Tom’s face before he closed the door behind him. He was looking back at Harry and although his voice had been full of sardonic mirth, his face was utterly unreadable.

“What?” Harry asked again. He realized he was touching his lips now, prodding as if to be sure they were still there. Sighing explosively, he tore his hand away and moved toward the wardrobe, intent on putting the whole episode out of his mind.

It took many hours for Harry to fall asleep, staring into the dark quiet of the room. His dreams were vague, impressions of dark eyes shrouded in shadow, though every time he moved forward he ended up swimming farther away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I understand that Ron acted the way he did in Deathly Hallows because of the locket horcrux, but it was at least in part due to the drastic lifestyle change and his own personality. So it’s understandable that he’d occasionally be a little sullen in this timeline.
> 
> \- The gang is aware of Rita Skeeter’s Dumbledore biography and the truths that came along with it, but Hermione and Tom are the only ones that actually read the book (instead of just the article advertising it), so they all at least know what Godric’s Hollow is and why it’s important to both Dumbledore and Harry.
> 
> \- Tom’s little aside about running away to the Alps definitely is a minor callout to the fantastic Tom/Harry fic “A Dangerous Game” by Cybrid - check it out!


	6. Reckless Endangerment

Harry felt as though he hadn’t slept in weeks, the events of the last few days circling his mind every time he tried to clear it. His scar had been prickling through most of them and he didn’t expect that to change save for becoming worse.

Godric’s Hollow had been stressful enough, even though they’d managed to both capture and absorb Nagini’s horcrux. The less said about the aftermath following that particular experience the better. Afterwards, Harry knew they would have to visit Gringotts as soon as possible as Voldemort would likely remove whatever horcrux was hidden there. That he was proved correct in the end didn’t change that several of them were almost killed through a combination of traps set by both goblins and Death Eaters, dragon fire, and bad luck. 

Harry couldn’t imagine how Tom was holding up, as he’d then had to absorb the horcrux from Hufflepuff’s cup right before they received a cryptic message from Aberforth calling them to Hogwarts. They’d barely managed to get him there in one piece and he was still slightly out of it by the time he, Harry, and Ginny were following Luna Lovegood up to Ravenclaw Tower, blinking hard every few seconds and speaking mostly in Parseltongue.

He’d seemed to come back to himself just in time for their altercation with the Carrows and the subsequent meeting with McGonagall. Harry knew her scandalized expression when she first locked eyes with Tom wasn’t leaving his head anytime soon.

So really, it was just following the pattern that Crabbe and Goyle had managed to cobble together enough intelligence between them to follow them into the Room of Requirement and nearly bring it down around their ears. It was lucky Malfoy had turned up, as he managed to not only shove Ginny out of the way of a killing curse but also snatch the diadem out of the air before it was destroyed by the Fiendfyre. Less lucky was that they only managed to save Goyle from the blaze, watching in horror as Crabbe slipped and fell off the pile he’d been scrambling up. Harry had a feeling Tom wholeheartedly disagreed, if what he’d been shouting in his ear while clinging fiercely to his waist was any indication.

At the moment, however, he was simply eerily silent, staring ahead with wide eyes. He was the only person still standing, as Harry, Ginny, Malfoy, and Goyle had all slumped immediately to the floor upon leaving the smoldering room behind. Harry leaned back against the cool stone wall, breathing hard, and exchanged disbelieving looks with Ginny. Malfoy was on her other side, panting and mouthing what seemed like Crabbe’s name.

Harry felt an uncomfortable sort of guilt. He’d never liked Crabbe, barely liked Malfoy on a good day, and knew logically it wasn’t his fault, but… 

“I’m sorry, Malfoy,” he muttered. Malfoy’s head moved in a strange jerking motion before turning to Harry in utter confusion.

“What-” he started to ask, but Tom chose that moment to haul Harry to his feet, his grip pinching around his upper arm.

“Riddle, what’re you-” Ginny began, starting to get up, but Tom cut her off too.

“Meet us back in the first floor bathroom,” said Tom. His voice was very soft and very menacing. Harry looked at him in alarm; he hadn’t heard that tone since before Tom had agreed to help them. It reminded him uncomfortably of Voldemort, the dangerous hiss that haunted his worst dreams, dreams of tombstones laid out in meandering rows and Cedric’s round, empty eyes.

Before Harry could say or do anything, he found himself being dragged quickly down the corridor. He waved back to Ginny and Malfoy reassuringly, but could feel his heart beating quickly. What was Tom up to?

Harry was thrown into the first empty room they came to, which turned out to be a disused classroom. He stumbled and almost fell into the teacher’s desk, feeling his adrenaline and anger spike.

“Oi!” he shouted, spinning to face Tom. He saw the flash of a spell and heard the curious combination of a squelching noise coupled with the sudden lack of sound from the corridor that meant the door was now sealed. “What the hell are you-?”

“You don’t care, do you, Harry?” Tom asked quietly. He turned slowly and Harry consciously did not step back or reach for his wand though it took some effort. He could feel his heart pounding.

“As long as there’s someone to save, you’ll do it,” Tom continued. His voice crawled across Harry’s nerves, a soft hiss. “Enemy, friend, they don’t even have to be human, do they?”

“Why does that matter?” Harry asked angrily.

Tom took a step to the left and Harry unconsciously mirrored him. “You’re so _noble_ ,” he said with such obvious scorn that Harry couldn’t help flinching. “So sure of your actions, no matter how they might affect anyone else. Do you ever think before you do these things?”

Harry was feeling increasingly more lost, but held tight to his anger as he asked, “What things? What are you _talking_ about?”

Tom spun fully toward him, his face twisted. “How about taking on a fully grown python under Voldemort’s direct control without calling for backup?” he asked nastily, his voice rising with each question. “Suddenly deciding to become a dragon tamer in the depths of the Gringotts vaults? Or better yet, almost getting incinerated because you just _had_ to save a person who literally just tried to kill you right before casting a highly restricted spell that almost killed all of us?”

Harry stared at him, thinking furiously. Tom’s wand was sparking in his hand, he was drawn up as tall as he could, his spine rigid with fury, and his expression was absolutely livid. But there was something different, something to do with the furrow between his eyes. Different from when Harry first knew him, before their endless Legilimency sessions, before planning late into the night, before dueling lessons, and covering for each other on and off the field without a second thought...

Fear. Tom was afraid. And suddenly, Harry understood. All those odd glances, Tom’s silence and distance leading up to this final confrontation… The brush of fingers against the scar on his hand, a strange burst of emotion that Harry had chalked up to Tom’s typical mischief...

There were a few ways Harry could confirm his suspicions, but since Tom already thought he enjoyed being reckless, he might as well go for broke.

Harry took the few steps he needed to be in Tom’s space, allowing himself to act rather than think. One hand came to rest on Tom’s upper arm, as if ready to deflect a wand-blast, and the other on the side of his face. Harry saw Tom’s eyes widen but then his were closed and he was kissing Tom with everything he had.

The original purpose of the kiss very quickly ceased to matter to Harry. With each brush of their lips, he found himself nearly drowning in his own emotions, feelings he’d either bottled up or mislabeled in his own mind. He pulled back just to kiss Tom again, a different angle, a better position, and realized Tom was now against the wall, his wand on the floor behind them and his hands grasping at Harry through his clothes, pulling him close.

Harry slid the hand on Tom’s arm up to the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair to hold him more securely as he mouthed Tom’s upper lip. He thought he should be combusting, blushing harder than he had in the alleyway in Hogsmeade, but the only things that seemed to register were the press of Tom’s chest against his own as their breath became shorter and the overwhelming smell of smoke left by the Fiendfyre. Somehow, this only heightened Harry’s desire to push into Tom’s warmth, tangle their legs together, press harder. They were alive. Yet again, they’d survived. Maybe, just maybe, their luck would hold for one more day…

Harry’s fingers curled in reaction when Tom’s teeth found his bottom lip and Tom made an interesting sound deep in his throat that Harry instantly wanted to hear again and again. He knew he made some kind of noise in response but it was lost as he delved into Tom’s mouth, his breath so loud and quick he thought he might burst.

With a sudden intake of breath, Tom pulled back, pressing his forehead to Harry’s. His eyes were tightly shut and he still looked angry, but there was a frantic, almost desperate edge to it that hadn’t been there before.

“You idiot,” he gritted out. Harry pushed closer to him, running his thumb over the shadow under his eye, unable to help himself now that this was happening, now that it was finally out in the open. Tom exhaled sharply. “You little idiot,” he murmured then crushed his mouth to Harry’s once again.

There was a fever to it this time, underlaid with such a burst of warmth through their connection that Harry felt as though he would suffocate in the emotion he could now correctly identify. Their mouths slanted together again and again and it took Harry several moments to realize Tom was making some kind of noise high in his throat, Harry echoing him unconsciously. His chest felt tight and he tore his mouth away, breathing hard.

Tom looked particularly attractive with a flush high on his cheeks, hair mussed, and looking at Harry as no one had before. Harry smiled up at him, feeling giddy and lightheaded, before moving to press his lips against his throat, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Harry laughed against Tom’s mouth, feeling lighter than he had in months.

“You-” he whispered, wanting to express this feeling, put it into the air between them, but before he could even start, Tom hissed, “Don’t,” and clutched Harry to him tightly, one hand pressing sharply into his spine and the other tangling in his windswept hair.

Harry laughed again, breathlessly, and Tom kissed him. Despite his hard grip and the edge in his voice, the kiss was gentle, far more than any of the others had been. He held Harry to him and brushed their lips together again and again, until Harry felt sure he would seep into the floor.

Finally, Harry pulled back, both hands caressing Tom’s face, brushing over his cheekbones and back through his dark hair.

“We need to-” Harry began regretfully. 

Tom sighed and pushed into the hand currently cupping his jaw. “I know,” he interrupted. “Just…”

“Yeah,” Harry returned, sagging against him and feeling Tom’s arms tighten around him. He took in the vague throbbing in his toes and the arches of his feet, smiling ruefully.

He knew they would have to move soon. The others would be getting worried and it was likely they were all waiting in the bathroom, wondering where they were. Harry grinned recklessly, thinking about Ron and Hermione’s possible reactions to his current position, then quickly sobered. Tom still had to absorb the diadem, the last free-standing horcrux, before they faced Voldemort. But for this moment, Harry put it out of his mind and focused on nothing but the warmth of both Tom’s body against his and the bursts of emotion coming through their connection in soothing waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I just really want to express how much I love the character of Harry Potter, but the thing I love most is his complete disregard for his own safety. When he feels strongly about something, he’s going to do it or die trying. I have a feeling this is the thing that Tom would feel the most strongly about too, but he would hate it more than love it.
> 
> \- Small things that I love to point out in order to bring Tom Riddle down a peg:  
> *He would very likely be terrible at riding a broomstick (hence him partnering up with Harry in the quick flashback).  
> *He thought he was the only one who knew about the Room of Requirement (why he hid the diadem there) even though the room was literally stacked floor to ceiling with things other students had obviously left there. Now that’s what I call narcissism.
> 
> \- Two things about Myrtle’s bathroom: Tom would likely only call it the ‘first floor bathroom’ since he doesn’t know or care about Myrtle haunting it. And because I’m trying to Brit-pick myself as much as I can, ‘first floor’ here means the floor above ground level (2nd floor to American readers).
> 
> \- So I realized that every time they’ve kissed for any length of time in this fic, Harry has been the instigator and they’ve been standing, so not as likely that Tom is bending down to accommodate him much. I just feel bad for Harry’s feet and toes.
> 
> \- Finally, as much fun as this was to write, I don’t think I’ll ever write the fic in its entirety, even though I did have to plot it out in order to work out where these segments fall. I encourage anyone to pick up the threads if they would like to - I’d love to see someone else’s take on this! (and/or have some convos concerning the outline - I love talking to fellow fanficcers!)


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